rooted

Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

pick a fightor some foodthe choice is all yoursdo not walk that path that leads to weaponsor you will be buried deep in the quagmireyou have to transform that negative energyinto something fruitfultake a deep breathe(you can practice that)and run out of that pit"I have the view for you, go find the vision"### Wrote this after two long months of drought. Hopefully, my muse is back!!

Sunday, August 16, 2015

go on, you have a feastI will escape into solitude to meditatemy mind's engine has stoppedI want to empty it to move onhow do I generate a ghost,any ghost, who makes me forgettorn, broke, I trudge deeper into the jungleyes, I laugh aloud at my daremy veins stand out but I am no longer tornonce I find the way, I will hit the sackwhile you have a gruesome feastwith everything ghoulishI know I irritate you all the timewith my enigmatic smile"my parlor is the abode of a stray,and you know, you can't get away any longer"

Sunday, August 09, 2015

I chisel away the plasterwith that blindfoldI need to find that mirror to scrybefore I hear someone cry of untold horrors just round the cornera chill runs through meand I recede to a cornerI can hear the rattle of a train passing by that creekI know I have to find that mirrorinstead I find a webcamhidden in the recess of that wallno wonder, foreboding had taken me overI was catching up with someone's sinthat sin which invades the privacy of othersI hear a crushed soul crashing to ground with that drumbeat"let me be blindfolded and smell the flowersor is it smoke I am swallowing?"

Sunday, August 02, 2015

near that river,close to the railway tracka body is revealed. is she alivedid she collapse there?I can see the longing in her faceimagine her radiant smile in better daysand gnash my teeth at the wastewhere did she emerge fromnow almost skin and bonesa mask, isn't it what we have always?is it reel, is it realwho will answerabove that silencemedia has all the answersone needs only post it thereno respect for the aliveeven less for the deadbut let her rest in peace"let me close my eyes and rest for a whilewhile she lies in the shallows"

Sunday, June 14, 2015

I pick the mouthpiecespeak secrets into ityou think I will gossipbut I read out a poemstanzas as sharp as razorswhen I wrote it in the batha storm was brewing in my heart(my skin so bronze, not that it matters)why do you have a lopsided viewyour thoughts always souryou find blemish in all that touches youas you always have been doingI will always keep that fence erect,now that weeds are growing around thatobsolete phone. "I am still speaking into it, assuming my poem might inspire you to write a few songs"

Sunday, June 07, 2015

in that bowl of ice cream I try to find some coolnessI am frantic in this heatrandom things springs in the mindsultry weather, no one's faultnature's way of testing usto make us absorbed deeply into itthat man in that tiny birdbathis that too much?he can only skim the surfacenot touch it without painhis shirt discarded nowafter that stain of salt shows in its grainthat birdbath can't contain his lengthI shake my thoughtsscour that bowl with all my strengthI ache for more"when the sky finally fallsI will hide under that now named manbath"

Monday, June 01, 2015

I need a nifty hat to keep me afloat just outside of my watery grave don't ever assume I have the privilege of miserythat thought is but stale where is my shoe, it is too late to contemplate remind me the chain of sequence (I was wearing white with five carat diamond) how I fell into water or was I pushed I am all mushed up in there akin to a boil in a cherry abhorring yet fascinating in the light of day don't let anyone get away I am not hidden in darkness

"not again. never again. I will float out. I will not suffer the fate of Pluto"

Sunday, May 24, 2015

steaming earth burns the feetjagged edges of rock bleed them furtherI am so intimate with my hatyet I have that umbrella toomerciless sun hits me hardI trudge along all aloneon that lonely dry pathmy feet dragging in that forceful wayI thirst for water, to sustain mebut I fall flat on that groundwhich embraces me to its breastall my stuff now hooked to a nailwhile I am but dust in the Universemy soul walking any place it wishesno bleeding marks anywhere,no dried out bones eithernot even a photograph on that wall"maybe a memory in someone's mindnot that I expect that as I am gone now"

Sunday, May 17, 2015

stuck in the mudher hands and feetsuppose she is searching the geometry of her originthe lines, that curve, and an anglethrow her a lifelinenetted wings, broken at placesurge her to flyher tears wet the groundcementing her fate"a seedling, perched on the earthneedles the mind, to prod, to incite"

About Me

For someone who teaches mathematics, poetry comes easy. There are so many aspects about myself that are unknown even to me. Poetry is way to explore myself. Where it will lead me, I don't know. I don't want to know. I thrive on the unknown.